The Marigold Medium
by SilverNightRain08
Summary: Emilee Davin is beside herself with joy when her father decides to move the family into the Murder House. She locks away her tragedies, hoping to start over, but Tate peels back the churning darkness within her, layer by layer. And she hates him for it.
1. Paper Mache

**I really couldn't resist. I swear I am going to finish the rest of the stories I have on here. I'm so sorry to whoever is reading them consistently...I really appreciate the support! Thank you! **

"Excuse me, who are you!?"

Emilee exclaimed at the sudden apparition glaring at her through the reflection. Her jewelry box clattered to the floor, earrings and necklaces spraying across the wood and across her bedside table. She whipped around, staring into the black eyes she saw in the reflection on her window. They were a striking contrast from his sunny blond hair.

"I asked you a question," she hissed at the boy standing between her and the door.

Emilee gathered up and clutched the small box with shaking hands, holding it to her chest in defense. Trying to hide the adrenaline rush she was shaking with was pointless. And this boy's energy was no help.

_How the hell did he get into the house?_

The boy only stared at her. He didn't blink or move, his black irises following her as she inched over to the bed. He noted the strands of auburn hair loosening from the tight, ballerina bun she had braided into place on the back of her head. The jewelry box she held barely covered the area over her heart and her freckles almost glowed from how pale her face became at the sight of him.

_Wait a minute…_

"If you don't want people to barge in on you, shutting the door would be a good idea," he said dully. "Who are you?"

"I have already asked _you _that," Emilee snapped.

He didn't give her an answer. Emilee glared at him, but he didn't do anything, which added to her discomfort. She felt her stomach knot and churn.

_Is he going to try to do anything to me?_

The boy still didn't answer her. Instead, he surveyed the bedroom, studying the violet walls and the crimson accents the new girl had used. The colors were calming and welcoming, unlike her attitude.

"Are you going to explain why you're breaking in and entering?" Emilee demanded.

_Or why you're haunting me? _

"Since you're obviously not going to tell me who you are?" she added after a beat.

"I don't intend to," he shrugged and vanished.

Emilee stared after the phantom boy.

_He was strong, _she marveled, her stomach still tingling from his lingering energies. _I could have touched him._

A shiver rocked her body, but it made her feel better. She could focus now. Emilee adjusted her jewelry box on her vanity, centering it in front of the mirror. Slicking back the escaping hair strands, she pushed her bobby pins more into place. Scooping up the spilled jewelry, Emilee tossed it back into the box and shut the lid.

_Dad _did_ mention it was haunted…where did my flowers go? _

Rummaging through the clump of balled up sweaters and jeans, Emilee dislodged her plastic vase.

_It didn't break, thank God. _

It belonged on the vanity at the edge of the mirror.

_I hope my flowers didn't get crushed…_

Fiddling with a plastic bag, Emilee managed to fluff the petals of her paper mache flowers.

"There we go."

The vivid orange contrasted from the violet walls. It could arguably go along with the crimson bed set and love seat she had on the other side of the door, but, any interior designer would tell her to pitch them. Regardless, she had to set them out first. Nothing else needed her immediate attention anyway.

**Three Days Earlier:**

She could tell from looking at it. That the house was a playground for spirits.

"Don't let your mind wander too much," her father warned, recognizing the distant stare in his daughter's eyes. Emilee shut her phone off, the image of the manor disappearing.

"Mom would have vetoed this house in a heartbeat," Emilee fingered the cross pendent hanging on her neck.

Shaking his head, Ethan Davin concentrated on the highway lacing through tunnels.

"I think you'll like this house. You love Victorian styled homes," he recollected, the image of his daughter pouring over architect books flashing in his memory.

"Of course. I said Mom would have vetoed the house. I'm all for it."

Emilee smiled, sliding her feet off the dashboard.

"No one has been able to stay in it for longer than one night."

There was a hint of amusement in her voice. Ethan didn't have to look at her to know she had "that grin" on her face.

"I'm glad you're taking this move so well," her father praised, guiding the car through a tunnel.

"But, Emilee, I warn you," his voice dropped to an almost grave whisper. Emilee had to lean closer to hear him.

"I _don't _want you dabbling with these spirits."

**Let me know what you think? :) **


	2. The Holly Bush

**Special "Thank You!" to Queenylime21 and TwilightNewMoonEclipseMidnight for the follow****s and Auroabyrd98 and CherriDoll for the favorites. I really appreciate the feed back! I hope this chapter is interesting.**

Emilee wandered in the yard, craning her neck to gain a better view of her new home.

_I find it so weird how this house can be so gorgeous but have such a strong, negative energy_.

Three days beforehand, Emilee was still sitting in the front seat of her father's Silverado, feet on the dashboard, staring out the window and contemplating. Had she made the right decision? Was it okay to leave behind everything—her boyfriend, childhood memories, the Ohio neighborhood she had grown up in? Most importantly, was it okay to feel relieved she no longer had to be in…_that_ house?

A soft breeze played with the skirt of her coat. Los Angeles wasn't too much of a transition, in Emilee's opinion. The city was brighter than her previous college-town and there was more sunshine. The air was warmer.

_Maybe it hasn't hit me yet. This is my home now, not just a family vacation_.

School hadn't started yet. She had another week to find a way to get there and plan the walk.

_Senior year of high school and I get to be the new kid. This should be interesting_.

Emilee inhaled fresh air before heading back inside. She heard the shuffle of cardboard against rug in the living room.

_I should get my stuff and finish packing._

"Dad! I need my boxes!"

"They're in the basement!" Ethan called back. "They're at the base of the steps."

"Why'd you put them down there?" Emilee asked, leaning back to see her father half inside a refrigerator sized box. His feet dangled above the wooden floor.

"I thought you would be going down there anyway."

_Why would I be going down there? _

Ethan wiggled out of the box, managing to tip it over enough to get a floor lamp out of it. Emilee sighed. There was no use in arguing with him, but she decided to anyway.

"You said to not mess with the spirits, if there are any to mess with down there."

"I say to keep your room clean too." His green eyes peered at her over the cord he was untangling. His eyebrows were raised as well, making his gaze seem like he was challenging her.

_He's letting me break this rule because he knows I'm going to do it anyway….or he at least thinks I will._

"I think you're overanalyzing this. I haven't felt anything in regards to the basement."

Ethan untied a knot in the cord, straightening his vest. It was odd to Emilee; he dressed so nicely in his good suit pants and gray vest while unpacking a house. A haunted house for that matter. Was this some sort of weird, special occasion for him? Unless he wanted to take Melinda out to dinner.

_That would be the more logical conclusion. _

"Are you and Melinda going out tonight?" she asked, eyeing the crisp, white shirt he had rolled back to his elbows.

"I was considering it," he shrugged, pushing his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. "Would you and Rowan be alright if I took Melinda to dinner?"

Emilee smirked.

"You're going to leave your two daughters in a new and _haunted_ house, alone, for the whole evening?"

She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. Her statement seemed to scare him and he didn't notice the teasing smile playing with his daughter's lips. His fingers paused over the knot he was untwisting and he stared at her.

"On second thought, we can just make dinner...Melinda makes the most delicious scallops," Ethan hurried over his words. Emilee rolled her eyes, amused, and watched her father's expression shift from shock to fear to regret.

"Dad, it's not like you haven't earned a night out. Rowan and I are capable of doing some of the unpacking and cooking dinner ourselves."

"I know, but, you said that this house—"

"Is nothing I can't handle," Emilee interrupted. "You and Melinda need a night to yourselves. Nothing will come after Rowan and me."

Ethan looked skeptical.

"I don't trust them, come to think of it. On the first night here...no. Why don't we all go out?" he started, "I should have thought of that first, anyway."

_He worries too much. Unless he can feel it too...but...that's not likely._

"Dad, you know better than anyone I can fend off spirits just fine. You and Melinda haven't had 'couple time' for weeks. Go out."

He seemed to digress. Emilee gave him a reassuring nod and turned to leave the room.

"I'm going to go find my things," she called.

"You're the best, Em!"

"I know."

Emilee weaved back through the house, lost as to where the basement door was.

_These ghosts could have left a map or something. Or act as a tour guide. Be useful._

Her mind wandered to the blond boy, who hadn't appeared to her since the previous afternoon. His energy had lingered in the room, however. It had made her nauseous after so many hours of organizing—as if he were feeding off of her energies. The small holly bush she had started growing surprisingly didn't help too much. Even so, she kept it near her as she bathed with dried sage leaves in the water.

_As long as he doesn't touch Rowan, Dad or Melinda, everything should be fine._

Despite it all, the knots in Emilee's stomach continued to twine. She tried to push the thoughts from her mind and turned her attention back to her mission. Curious as to whether her sister's belongings had been placed with hers, Emilee continued on her pursuit of the basement door. The wall felt so smooth. Paint particles, the murals were interesting. Her mind began to wander.

_When did the murals get here?_

Emilee followed the baseboard through the hall and to the front door. Her dad was gone. Eyes scanning over everything but not really seeing, Emilee kept her hand sliding against the wall.

"This is all wrong."

Emilee blinked. What was all wrong? A muscle behind her eye tightened.

"Dad? Melinda and Rowan should be here soon to make it look alright."

"No…no…this is all wrong!" A man was shouting but Emilee was too entranced to not followed the voice. Dry mouth kept her from answering. The tightness behind her eye sharpened to an ache.

"_You need to leave_."

Someone else was there. Behind her, she felt the breath of a spirit as she whispered warnings. Emilee circled through the entrance hall, following the wall through the living room. The lamp stood still, where her father left it.

"…Mom…?"

The devil was whispering in the monk's ear on the wall. An intrigued monk listening to the words of the devil.

_Why would someone paint that? Why put it in the living room of a house?_

Her stomach knotted.

"All wrong. It's all wrong!"

The man's voice escalated to a higher pitched shout. A full-fledged migraine exploded in her head, almost knocking her to her back.

"Just wait for Melinda and Rowan-"

"_Leave—leave now_!"

Emilee stumbled over the rug. Something smelled like it was burning. Gasoline?

_Is Dad testing the oven in the kitchen?_

"I want you to feel my pain..."

That wasn't a voice she had heard...

"Mom?!" she called and blindly rubbed her forehead.

"All wrong! It doesn't go together!" the man's voice went from shouting to exasperated. "Who are you?"

Emilee's mind raced with the different voices, thoughts, wondering where the voice was…where _she_ was. The room was spinning-or was she spinning?

_When did I start running?_

_Wasn't I just outside?_

"I can't get out."

_I just ran outside!_

"Mom! I'm right here! Mom!"

"No."

"Mom!"

_Why am I running to begin with? Wasn't I just on the rug?_

"Feel my pain..."

_Since when did Death fall in love with a woman? Why did she look so entranced by the skull face? Why are these paintings on the walls? Gasoline-Ethan-no, Dad-what's burning?_

_He fell in love with my mother…_

No, that wasn't right. Death didn't fall in love with her.

_No, why would Death want my mother? _

"Because she wanted him."

Gasoline...so much gasoline...was she standing or kneeling-?

"No, Mom loved my dad and me and Rowan...Rowan-where did she run off to?"

"This is what the house does to you!"

_Why is there so much gasoline? _

"LEAVE HER ALONE!"

Emilee whipped around to meet the black eyes just in enough time, before everything else shattered from reality.

**At The Same Time...**

Rowan Davin bounced in the middle seat of the moving truck, straining to see the gate of her new home. The blue brim of her fedora tipped over her anxious blue eyes and she pushed it back, holding it in place, still bouncing.

"Melinda, are you going to marry my dad and live with us now?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. The woman beside her smiled, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Well, I'm living with you guys here," she said, tilting her head to observe the massive mansion.

_This is going to be fun to clean,_ was the first thought she had. But, an excitement rose in her chest. The house was gorgeous and Ethan and Emilee had already settled in. The two of them were overwhelmed with the rush of moving into this house. Its reputation made Emilee want to live in it even more, which was unnerving to Melinda for more reasons than one.

"Just think about it! I will always have someone to talk to!" she had exclaimed, innocent joy in her eyes.

"You have plenty of friends here, though," Melinda had said and Emilee shrugged. Beside her, Emilee's boyfriend stared at her from the chair, his expression unreadable.

_As long as_ he _stays_ here, Melinda remembered herself thinking. What was that boy's name? Chris? Calvin? To her, it didn't matter. He should have offered some sort of condolence when Emilee basically said she had no one to talk to.

_Such a rude, pretentious little- _

"Isn't it pretty, Melinda? Look at the trees in the yard!"

Rowan's outburst snapped her back to reality. The girl seemed to be beside herself with joy as the truck pulled up to the side of the road. Melinda unclicked her seat belt and didn't attempt to keep Rowan from running to the yard, cartwheeling over the lush lawn and jumping at the lowest branch over her head. Her hat flipped in the sudden gust of wind and carried it towards the walk way. Rowan was too distracted with the trees to notice. Melinda laughed softly as she stepped out of the truck and inhaled fresh air. The driver slammed his door shut and opened the trunk.

"You don't seem like the type to be moving into Murder House," the driver said when Melinda turned to gather a box out of the trunk.

"What makes you think that?" she asked and the driver cocked an eyebrow.

His surveying her caught her off guard. The red cardigan contrasted from the black pencil skirt and Melinda's curls were arranged in an attractive up hairdo, one curl framing her face on both sides. Most women looking like that lived at the beach in the high end condos, never seen without make up and stilettos.

"I just hope you know what you're doing," was all he said as Melinda turned on her heel to follow the brick walk way to the door.

Rather than replying with a smart, "I know _exactly_ what I am doing," she ignored the comment. Instead, she straightened her shoulders and strode confidently on the walk way to her house. Resisting the urge to yank the bobby pins from her hair and let the wild curls bounce in the wind was almost exhausting.

"Rowan! Come inside and see your sister!" Melinda called to the jumping girl. Obediently, Rowan gathered her posture and hat before trotting up to her soon-to-be-step mother, at least, she hoped so.

"I can open the door," Rowan said, "your hands are full."

Melinda smiled at her, stepping inside and shifting the box's weight in her hand.

"Wow, look at this house, Rowan," Melinda marveled. The stairway wound gracefully, sunlight dancing through stained glass and up the stairs. Melinda stepped to her left to follow a short hall to the wall where an angel held six candles above his head. She studied the detail of the wings and the graceful drape of his robe, wondering if she could ever replicate it in her own wood work.

Rowan peered around at the ceiling from the door way, her hand flying to her head to keep her fedora in place.

"Can I help you with that?"

Melinda let out a startled cry, almost dropping her box, and twisted her neck to meet the eyes of an elderly woman. Rowan leaned inside to see the commotion, wondering how she missed the old lady walk by her.

"Who are you?" Rowan asked for Melinda, one hand still clutching the door handle.

The woman nodded kindly at her. Melinda tried to keep herself from staring at the woman's milky white eye. It was an odd contrast from the woman's scarlet hair, Melinda noted, but it was strangely artistic.

"I'm Moira O'Hara. I'm the care taker of this house," she answered and Rowan's eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm sorry," Melinda began, Moira focusing her good eye on her, "I didn't realize my boyfriend hired housekeeping."

"Oh, I come with the house, ma'am. I've been keeping it tidy for years."

"Did you see any of the other families die?"

"_Rowan_!"

Melinda's face blushed. Moira bowed her head, a sigh freeing itself from her throat. Rowan wondered about the answer, but, she took Moira's reaction as a yes. She bit her tongue to keep herself from saying anything else. Melinda was glaring at her, wanting to scold her for being so rude.

_Emilee would have yelled at me for that, _she thought, slightly grateful her sister was nowhere to be found.

Rowan shrugged her shoulders in apology and moved herself behind the door to let the driver of their truck inside. Rowan reappeared and darted across the hall to find Emilee.

"I'm sorry, she's only eight-" Melinda started, hoping the woman wasn't offended.

Moira waved her hand in understanding.

"I know she didn't mean anything by it. May I ask your name?"

Melinda held out her hand, patting her curls with the other, embarrassed by her lack of etiquette.

"I'm Melinda Bogdan," she said hurriedly.

Moira gave Melinda's slender fingers a light squeeze instead of a hand shake and started her way down the hall. Unsure as to what else to do, Melinda lowered her hand to fold in front of her.

"Let's allow the man to move the belongings," Moira said, keeping Melinda from picking up her box again. "I'll prepare some lunch for you and the girls. I'm sure you're hungry."

Melinda awkwardly followed the maid into the kitchen, stealing a glance at Rowan, who was craning over her sleeping sister.

"Emilee! Wake up!" Rowan gave her arm a poke, but she didn't move. Rowan lifted her hand to Emilee's nose, feeling a soft breathe over her fingers, and she relaxed. Considering her options for a beat, Rowan scampered from the living room to the stair well.

"Dad! Dad? Are you up there?"

No answer. Rowan rounded the corner to see her sister again and pursed her lips.

"_Go get the holly_."

"Huh?" Rowan looked around the empty room. Nobody was watching her, she couldn't see anyone. Blinking and staring at her sister asleep on the rug, Rowan circled back to the stairwell and ran up to the second floor.

"Which room is hers?" Rowan asked the disembodied voice. "There are so many rooms."

"_In here_."

Rowan watched a door down the hall creak open. Sunlight slipped over the wooden floor, but Rowan felt herself shiver. Something in the air shifted.

"Is someone standing in front of me?" she asked, backing up a few steps.

"_Get the holly_."

Rowan stepped back again, slipping on the top stair. She grabbed the rail and steadied herself, her heart almost pouncing from her chest.

"_In here_."

The door creaked again, a long moan and Rowan whimpered. She felt as though someone was tugging at her sleeve, encouraging her to go into the room.

"I don't trust you," she said.

"_Get the holly_."

There was a low scratch coming from the inside of the room and Rowan felt herself freeze in place. A shadow passed and the sliver of sunlight was blocked. Her fedora tumbled down the stairs as she backed up and stepped down.

"_Don't be scared_."

"Go away," Rowan squeezed her eyes shut and the scratching stopped. The air lightened. She felt herself begin to cough and she rubbed her eyes. No one was there when she started looking around again.

**This was getting too long, so, I'm cutting it here. I still think it may be too long, but a bit more reading never hurt anyone, right? Haha. Hope you liked it! I would love to know what works and doesn't work-I am trying to keep the same suspenseful feeling the show had but still keep my own story line. Thanks for reading! **


	3. All Basements Are Creepy

**THANK YOU: Rae for the review, AbbieZ4eva, Queenylime21, TwilightNewMoonEclipseMidnight and neverlands-star for following and Aurorabyrd98 and for favoriting! I really appreciate it! **

The afternoon had long slipped into evening before she could open her eyes again. Emilee wasn't sure if it was the coughing fit or the blazing pain in her forehead that woke her first. Groaning, she felt around, expecting to be on the floor but felt her cotton sheets. For some reason, her heart jolted and she bolted up, flailing her arms as the sheets constricted around her limbs and toppled to the floor."When your dad found you, he brought you up here."The familiar voice made her scramble out from the web of sheets. Static crackled and Emilee brushed her bangs from her eyes to see the jeans draped over the feet of the ghost boy in her love seat.

"Okay, why do you keep appearing to me?" she demanded to the relaxing phantom.

_ I probably shouldn't be as forceful…he's too dangerous to piss off. _

The boy shrugged and rested his head against his fist. His energies seemed to envelop around her and Emilee felt her head buzz. It was easy to ignore but he was still too off putting to disregard the warnings flickering in her mind.

"That little girl was really worried about you."

_Rowan_.

"I thought I would watch you when your dad left," he added, not liking her demanding glare.

"Clearly, I am in good hands. I don't need a dead babysitter," Emilee brushed off her original instinct in not being demeaning and pulled straying strands of hair back from her neck.

He didn't bother to comment on the hostility she clearly had. Emilee stared back at him, recognizing the black eyes she saw before passing out. The devil's eyes, it seemed. They appeared endless…even more so as they glared at her when he rose to his feet.

"Can you tell me your name?" she asked, brushing the electricity from her clothes. Emilee wobbled as she stood, not allowing her intimidation to show as he towered over her.

_ I barely come to his shoulder. How depressing._

The boy stared her, as if studying her black sweater and messed up hair. Seemingly bored with his silence, Emilee began to remove bobby pins from her hair. They enticed him for a moment—there were little orange puffs at the bend of each one. As she set them on her desk, he noticed how they seemed to form a bouquet like the one she had in the vase on the vanity.

"Look," Emilee finally sighed, "if you're not going to tell me your name, then go awa—"

"My name is Tate," he said too quickly. Emilee allowed her hair to tumble down her back before focusing on the boy named Tate.

"And what do you want from me, Tate?"

He followed his pattern of ignoring the question. Instead, he walked back over to the love seat and sat down, his eyes gleaming with a smile to match. Emilee felt her migraine begin to tug at her eye again. She pretended that his silence and demeanor didn't deepen any concern and decided to organize her bobby pins, carrying them to her vanity.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Tate said, his black eyes following her. Emilee watched him fold his fingers in his lap and relax back in the seat, smirking. Her spine prickled with anticipation, the feeling of being watched too closely. She didn't like how Tate made her stomach churn and her lower body numb—as if he had some sort of power over her.

_ He's been dead for a while…no ghost is this powerful right after dying. _

"What are you talking about?" Emilee finally met his gaze and suppressed a shiver. The bobby pins rained into the jewelry box.

"You want something from me," Tate raised his eyebrows.

Wishing she would finally tell him why she kept pulling him back to her, Tate kept his expression expectant. He felt the nerves of Emilee pulse towards him. He knew his presence made her anxious, but he couldn't decide if he cared.

_I'm not as enthusiastic about being around you, either, _Tate wanted to say. He refrained from doing so because it was more enjoyable to watch the newcomer try to act braver than she seemed.

To humor her, and hopefully get an answer, he would glance around every few seconds at the purple walls that were slowly accumulating posters of London's skyline and Irish castles.

"What could I possibly want from a ghost I just met?"

Tate shrugged while admiring a poster of Belfast Castle. He leaned back in the love seat, making the wooden feet drop against the floor in a low thud.

"How would I know? I'm not a mind reader." Tate caught the nervous twitch of Emilee's hand and kept his eyes steady on her.

_ He's messing with me…he has to be._

Emilee didn't dare to let herself take her eyes off of Tate. His energy pulsed, each beat stronger than the last, making her more nervous and the migraine gnaw even more behind her eye. Something was off about this boy. He wasn't harmless and observing like she had initially thought…there was something sinister about him.

_ He could hurt Rowan…she is too susceptible to negative energy—or…am I being paranoid…? _

"Look," she finally seethed, gripping the edge of the vanity, "I don't care if you stay in the house. I don't care if you follow me around."

Tate was glaring at her through his shaggy bangs.

"But, I swear, if you even _startle_ Rowan," Emilee didn't have time to consider her threat, "I know how to kill you. Your soul will be destroyed and you'll be nothing."

Her body was shaking…stomach twisting and migraine devouring the entire right side of her head. Emilee hid her pain by pulling her hair back off her neck to halfheartedly braid it.

_ He's taking my energy. I'm going to be sick all over again._

Tate remained silent, tracing a forefinger over his lips. Emilee turned her head to search for her trash can and maintained her disintegrating balance as best as she could. Static fizzed in her side and she felt Tate next to her. She stared into the soulless eyes in the mirror. His lips pulled back into a sadistic smile and he pressed his lips against her ear, holding her stare.

_ I—can't—move- _

The migraine almost exploded as her muscles tightened at his unwelcomed touch. She swallowed back bile and closed her eyes.

_ Inhale…go away…he needs to go away…Exhale. Relax…_

"I know how to kill people too," Tate whispered in her ear, his hands caressing her side. Her eyes snapped back open. She tried not to vomit. Tate closed his eyes and guided his lips over her neck, inhaling the scent of ginger shampoo.

"You're underestimating me, Emilee," Tate growled into her throat. Her tense skin smelled of lavender and he resisted allowing himself to linger. His hands tightened on her and Emilee felt her stomach jolt.

"Just tell me what the fuck it is you _want_!"

Her only response was a sudden absence of the pressure of his lips. As if it were an automatic reaction, Emilee fell over her trash can, gagging. Tate had long gone by the time she could look up.

**Downstairs...**

Melinda sipped her tea as she watched Moira stir the pasta.

"I really shouldn't let you do this," she said to the housekeeper. Her fingers fidgeted over the yellow tea mug, gripping then loosening over the ceramic handle. She shifted in her seat at the island, trying not to feel guilty.

"Why not?" Moira turned, her lips pulled into a warm smile, "I want to give your family a proper, welcoming dinner."

Melinda watched her passionflower tea ripple with her breath. The smell of soaked pasta noodles contrasted dramatically from the scent of her drink. She flicked her grey eyes to the back of Moira's head as the care taker turned back around to turn the burner down.

"I don't want to sound ungrateful," Melinda said after a sip of tea. "It's been a while since I haven't made dinner."

"All the more reason for me to help you," Moira smiled again, plating a hand on her hip. "After all, you were supposed to go out tonight."

She carried the pot of spaghetti over to the sink to strain it, a cloud of steam swallowing her head. Melinda nodded at the comment and Moira met her eyes before carrying the pot to an unoccupied burner.

"Ethan didn't want to leave because of Emilee collapsing," Melinda shuddered. "Which I didn't either."

"That's understandable. You have to look out for your daughter," Moira said kindly and began portioning the spaghetti noodles onto four plates.

"Oh, Emilee isn't my biological daughter," Melinda said and straightened her back. Moira poured tomato sauce over the noodles and handed a plate to brunette.

"It takes more than that to be family, ma'am," Moira said and drizzled the red sauce onto a second plate for Rowan. "It seems that you love these girls like they are your own."

Melinda twisted a fork in her spaghetti and nodded.

"I do. But…."

Moira set the pot of sauce down and met the gray eyes before they dropped their gaze.

"But what, ma'am?"

Melinda sighed.

"I just hope they can come to love me just as much, you know?" she started. "These girls lost their mother in such a tragic way…I mean, at the time, Rowan was very little, so…it's reasonable to assume she doesn't remember as much. But Emilee…"

Melinda trailed off and Moira shook her head in understanding.

"Emilee can remember it like yesterday?"

"She does," Melinda whispered.

Moira's expression brimmed with sympathy. She walked around the island and sat down next to Melinda, placing a warm hand over Melinda's on the tea cup.

"I'm sure you're doing the best you can in making her feel better," Moira said, and Melinda inhaled the mix of spice and passionflower twining beneath her nose.

"Ethan…he's still healing too, of course. I just hope all of this isn't moving too fast."

"If anything is wrong, I'm sure it will be brought to your attention," Moira patted her hand and Melinda crossed her legs.

"I would hope so," she sighed.

_Everyone seems okay. Hopefully, they aren't keeping anything hidden for my sake. _

"I'm worried they will keep things from me," Melinda admitted. "I don't know if it would be for my sake or they think I won't understand. Ethan even more than Emilee."

Moira's intent look was a comfort, Melinda feeling at ease with confiding in her.

"Emilee is the one I don't expect to divulge a ton of information to me. Not that I don't want her to, you know?" Melinda slicked her stray curl behind her ear. "Ethan, though, I have an obligation to understand if we're going to get…"

Melinda cut herself off. Moira watched her nervously fidget before she took a long sip of her tea.

"I'm sorry. Wistful thinking," she muttered.

_Stop fantasizing, _Melinda scolded herself.

The daydream of her in a white dress striding towards a beaming Ethan always ended in the sounds of ripping fabric and shrieks.

"Madam, I think you're worrying too much," Moira tried to console. "This family accepts you, it looks like. I'm sure you're in no danger of being cast aside."

Melinda pressed her lips together.

"Just my over thinking, Moira. I'm sorry to dump all of this one you. It's kind of rude."

Moira gave Melinda's hand an encouraging pat and another smile.

"It's natural to worry, but I'm sure everything will be okay."

**And this was going on too...**

Sniffing the air, Rowan straightened herself upright on her father's lap.

"I smell spaghetti sauce," she said, squinting her eyes and Ethan lowered the volume on the television.

"Smells amazing, doesn't it?" he smiled and his daughter nodded enthusiastically.

"I'll go get Emilee," Rowan bounced off his lap, out of the living room and darted to the stairs, taking them two at a time. She didn't feel her spine prickle until she reached the top of the stairs, where a sliver of light in Emilee's room slit through a shadow.

Rowan hesitated.

_No ghosts can hear me, right? _

She perked her ears for scratches across the floor. A few beats passed before she took a step forward and made out the padded steps of Emilee pacing in her room. Rowan trotted to the door and pushed it open, her sister not hearing the creak of the wood. She was tending to her paper mache marigolds, her auburn hair cascading over her back and swaying as she tilted her head back and forth. For a moment, Rowan studied how her sister held herself.

_She always looks like a ballerina._

Rowan leaned into the room more, her blue eyes soft with admiration.

_I wish she would wear other shirts that weren't black. _

Emilee felt eyes on her, turning around with her hands poised over the orange blossoms of her flowers.

"That tomato sauce smells delightful, doesn't it, Ro?" Emilee smiled and Rowan twirled over to her.

"I'm so hungry. We're waiting for you."

Emilee gave her flowers another fluff and started towards the door.

"I'm going to grab some ribbon from the basement, first. I'll only be another minute."

"Can it wait?" Rowan almost pleaded.

"You won't starve to death, Ro-Ro," Emilee teased and Rowan stuck her tongue out.

"I might. And it'll all be because of the ribbons."

Emilee rolled her eyes but had to laugh.

"Come on. It'll be faster if I have you help me."

Rowan shrugged and followed her sister out the door and down the stairs. Peeking into the dining room, she saw Ethan sit down with a steaming plate of spaghetti and Moira take her seat next to Melinda.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Melinda asked the passing girls and Rowan nodded.

"Yeah, I'm just helping Emilee find her ribbon first," she answered and followed her sister to the basement door.

"I walked passed this door about three times and figured it was a closet," Emilee said as Rowan caught up with her.

"Geek."

Emilee blew her bangs from her eyes and started down the steps. She tried to ignore the vibes from the basement that made her inner voice scream, "_No_!". Rowan peered from behind the wall, her stomach feeling knotting.

_But, if Emilee is okay, then it should be safe. _

"This basement is really creepy," Rowan protested.

"_All_ basements are creepy, Ro."

Emilee peered around at the boxes at the base of the stairs, scanning the permanent marker labeling each. She kept her breath steady, praying Rowan was deaf to the whispers in the rooms ahead.

"You can go eat, Rowan," Emilee called up the stairs. "I know which box the ribbon is in."

Emilee ignored the chill in order to keep her sister from worrying. She watched a shadow flicker away from her, hoping it was only Tate toying with her paranoia. Rowan's footsteps clamored down the steps as Emilee slipped into the darkness, searching for a light switch.

"_I would get out of here, if I were you._"

"Rowan," Emilee's voice was edged with familiar worry but the girl allowed herself to search over the boxes anyway. "Go eat, Rowan."

Emilee watched another shadow dash away from the light then disappear and her heart hammered.

"Rowan-!"

There was a shriek and Emilee dove towards her sister, feeling claws scratch at the end of her nose.

"EMILEE!"

Withholding any screams, Emilee felt the energy pulse as she grabbed handfuls of fabric and tore the beast away from Rowan before it could harm her. Whatever it was, Emilee launched it across the basement, the unnatural crack of it against the concrete walls igniting hisses and a scurry of claws. Rowan screamed as it came into view and Emilee shoved her sister behind her as it dove for her chest.

"_Go away_!" another voice commanded through the basement and the hissing subsided. Rowan's senses perked as she recognized the voice. The beast cringed at the voice but shifted back into the shadows. Emilee studied the snarling Frankenstein of a baby crawl back into the depths of the basement, his ebony eyes locking on hers. She resisted cringing at the bared, pointed fangs and curling nails scraping across concrete.

Emilee felt an electric touch on her shoulder but didn't dare to break eye contact with the white monster. Rowan clutched Emilee's sweater, her hands trembling but she turned her head to focus on the ghost standing next to her sister.

She was as tall as Emilee was and her curtain of brown hair shielded most of her face from Rowan.

"Emilee…there's another ghost," she whispered, her hands gripping the soft fabric.

"I know," Emilee answered, her heart pulsing in sync with the calming energies of the new entity.

"Who are you?" Rowan asked the ghost.

Once she was sure the girls wouldn't be attacked, the ghost focused warm, brown eyes on the little girl.

"I'm Violet."

Rowan surveyed the purple sweater and jeans. Violet didn't look dangerous, but Rowan hesitated in trusting her. Emilee hadn't said it was okay to talk to the ghost, but Rowan felt herself calm down as Violet kept her eyes darting between the monstrous infant and Emilee.

"Did you find the holly bush in my sister's room?" Rowan asked.

This made Emilee lock her eyes on the teenage ghost, her green eyes intense and Violet shrugged.

"You needed it," she said nonchalantly and Rowan let go of Emilee's sweater.

Neither of the three girls heard the tramples of Ethan and Melinda as they practically fell down the stairs to them, Ethan out of breath and pale. His glasses had slipped to the end of his nose. Moira followed, grasping Melinda's upper arm before she could fall into Ethan. Violet knelt down next to Rowan, recognizing her startled but fierce gaze.

"I won't hurt you," Violet reassured her, but the girl didn't seem completely convinced. Violet glanced up at Emilee. "You know I won't, right?"

Emilee slowly nodded, as if in a trance as her eyes raked back over the basement's shadows. Rowan stared up at Melinda, who gestured for her to come up the stairs and Violet let her pass.

"What did you see, Emilee?" Ethan inquired, but she didn't move. Energies throbbed through the basement, contorting and constricting around her. Ethan made a move to take Emilee back upstairs, not seeing Violet. Melinda glanced around, her arms wrapping around Rowan. Emilee hadn't moved, eyes glazed over, entranced.

_"This is what the house does to you." _

Emilee jumped at the sound of gunfire.

_"I thought you weren't afraid of anything!"_

The basement seemed to spin and Emilee watched Violet step in front of her. Light pierced through the window then faded. Dusty light illuminated the gaping mouth and blow flies colonizing in her tongue.

_"I tried to save you." _

This was why Tate kept coming back to her.

_"Emilee, you can't tell anyone about your gift." _

Emilee stared the steps. Rowan fought against Melinda's grip to get to her sister.

"Rowan, stay there. She can't see you," Ethan reminded her and circled his eldest. "Emilee, remember where you are."

_"Nobody can know. You shouldn't have said anything. She's an outsider!" _

Violet kept a steady gaze on Emilee. Despite her standing upright, her eyes kept rolling into the back of her head. Thaddeus's snarls became more frequent the longer she stayed entranced.

"Do you understand now, Emilee?"

**I write incredibly long chapters, but things should start picking up. Thank you for reading! I hope to read your comments. Critiques are valued and appreciated! Thanks again! **

**~SNR**


	4. Encounters

**Thank you so much, Zypherblaze for reviewing and following! And thank you so much Meow333333 and Chicacherrycolalime for favoriting and following me! I really appreciate the support. I hope you enjoy thins next chapter! **

Emilee's arms constricted around the pillow and she pulled her knees closer against the plush fabric. The mixed aroma of ginger shampoo and soap tangled between its fibers was the only aspect that was keeping her from going insane.

_Just focus on the scent._

Her eyes followed the red stitching in her comforter, observing how each loop swirled into a subtle rose against the crimson fabric. No unnecessary stitch or excess thread used to create the rose. Each one had purpose, each one following a logical pattern to an overall design. Something that was simple but beautiful.

_All of them make sense. All of them uniform, following each other into one purpose._

Emilee's fingers gripped the fabric of her pillow. Cotton squeezed together beneath her fingers and she tried harder to clear her mind.

_Why did Mom suddenly make contact with me?_

She didn't dare to tell her father about what the late Mrs. Davin said about Melinda.

_If she didn't want Dad to marry anyone else, she wouldn't have…._

Emilee buried her face in her pillow.

_Calm down, Emilee. Mom was always really protective. She's just looking out for you._

She inhaled the ginger scent, meditating on it for a moment, while the knots in her shoulders unwound. Stress loosened in her back, the tension fizzling away the more she focused on the pillow.

_She is still watching over everyone. Mom still loves us. I know she does…she was just scared that Melinda would be someone that rejected me._

Emilee relaxed her arms, guiding her hands over the width of her pillow. Her fingertips memorized the way the threads crossed over each other, seeming to mingle with the indents in her fingers. Her fingerprints. The pillow. Each one having a purpose, creating a logical shape.

Sighing, Emilee pushed her covers back enough to burrow her feet under the leftover warmth of her body heat. With her pillow snuggled against her chest, she wiggled under the covers and blocked all thought for the rest of the night.

...

Ethan kicked a box out of the way only to trip over a lamp. Crashing over it, he felt his elbow break into a cardboard box and he landed flat on his back.

"Son of a bitch," was all he could mumble. Once he regained feeling in his arm, Ethan adjusted his glasses and sat up, rubbing his lower back.

"Need some help?" a woman's voice startled him and Ethan jumped to his feet.

"What-?! Who-!?"

"Relax," a woman emerged from the shadows, holding her hands up. A welcoming smile was spread across her face but that didn't bring much comfort.

"How did you get into my house?" he demanded and the woman crossed her arms, relaxing her weight on one foot.

"You left the basement door open," she said, gesturing to the door swaying on its hinges. "I heard a crash and I thought I would make sure everyone was okay."

Ethan stared at her for a moment, wondering what to do.

_What will Melinda think if she sees me down here with a strange woman?_

"Uh…." Ethan deduced this newcomer wasn't a threat. Her smile and kind, green eyes took the edge off his mood. Her curls were polished but casual, a style Melinda would have complimented to the moon and back.

"I'm sorry to not introduce myself," the woman said, holding out her hand, "I'm Vivien Harmon."

Ethan pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and blinked. Vivien studied his thick hair, which made him look a few years younger than he was. It was difficult to tell the color in the dark.

"Ethan Davin," he replied, trying not to sound rude. Vivien gave his hand a light squeeze and then a firm shake.

"Anyway," she said, "I should get back home. My family and I live around the corner; so, feel free to drop by if you need anything."

Ethan replied with an awkward, "Thank you" and Vivien headed back to the door. He watched her shut it and returned to his search for the box. Grabbing the one he had broken into with his elbow, he gathered it in his arms after tossing the booby trap of a lamp in it.

He couldn't hear the snarls from the dusty corners of his basement.

...

Vivien exhaled a sigh of relief when the basement door shut. Blessing the shadows, she wandered back into the dank room she lived in while the new owners were awake and around the house. It was no use trying to scare them out anymore.

"You had me worried for a minute," Ben said from behind her.

"Why?"

"I thought you were going to try another one of your tricks."

Ben's eyes gleamed with amusement, despite the darkness and Vivien could make out the crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he smiled at her.

"What more could either of us do?" she sighed, crossing and uncrossing her arms over her chest. "If the combination of making the oldest daughter pass out and Thaddeus's attack didn't drive them out by now…"

Ben ran his hands up and down her sides, easing her mind enough that she could rest her head against his shoulder.

"I just hope this house doesn't damage them," she whispered. Ben wrapped his arms around his wife, holding her tight enough that her memory replayed the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat.

"We'll keep an eye out for them," Ben reassured her. "Violet seems attached to the little girl already. Moira is constantly around Melinda. You've claimed Ethan as your favorite."

There was a note of envy in his voice and Vivien let herself laugh. Her hands circled over his back, her touch soothing, and Ben nuzzled her.

"And what about the oldest? Emilee, right?"

Ben pulled back, leaving his hands on the small of her back.

Tate is taking a liking to her, he wanted to say. For some reason, it felt it best to keep it to himself. The less attention that psycho forces on my daughter, the better.

"Should it worry me that Tate's the one that seems attached to her?"

Vivien's eyes widened.

"Why do you think that?"

So much for keeping it to himself. Ben pressed his lips together, his eyes wandering about the dark room.

"Well, it could be that he's just latching onto her for some sort of comfort..." the doctor trailed off, not wanting to acknowledge any sort of twisted obsession Tate had with Violet. Vivien tensed with concern, her fingers flexing against his back.

"He-shouldn't be a threat to her."

She didn't sound convinced and Ben slipped his hand off his wife's back. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to think of the proper statement to recant his previous claim. Besides, wouldn't it be a good thing if Tate forgot about the whole ordeal and left the Harmons alone? He hadn't talked to them in years, but it was still unnerving for Ben to look over Violet's shoulder only to see the black eyes peering at her from the shadows.

"Looks like we have our work cut out for us, Doctor," Vivien said.

...

"Emilee! Emilee! Emilee!" Rowan pounded on her sister's bedroom door, her spiraled curls springing as she bounced on her feet. "Come on! It's time to go to school!"

Welcoming herself into the bedroom, Rowan bounded over to her sister's bed, jumping on top of her. Emilee uttered a low groan, her face half buried in her pillow and the rest covered by her auburn hair.

"Emilee! Come on! It's the first day of school!" Rowan pulled back some of Emilee's hair back from her face, a few strands dragging saliva with them.

"No. No school." Emilee batted her hand at her little sister, fingers fishing for the edge of her blanket to pull over her head. A few snores escaped her mouth and Rowan huffed in irritation.

"Moira made so much food for breakfast," Rowan tapped Emilee's shoulder. The snoring stopped.

"Food?"

"A lot of it."

"…waffles?"

"There's a whole tower of waffles, Em," Rowan bribed. "A tower of buttery waffles with a waterfall of maple syrup."

As if on cue, Emilee's stomach growled.

"…tower…waffles?"

"And fruit. And…" Rowan leaned in close to her ear, "double chocolate chip pancakes."

In a flash, Emilee had thrown back the covers, engulfing Rowan in a wave of fabric.

"THOSE PANCAKES ARE MINE!"

"HEY!" Rowan yanked the covers off of her before chasing her sister out into the hall and down the stairs. Emilee's hair trailed behind her and Rowan raced just a few steps behind her. "I want some of those too!"

They sounded as if they were going to break through the stair case. Melinda bit her tongue to keep herself from teasing how the wood was going to splinter as Emilee leaped from the second to last stair. She skidded all the way to the entrance of the kitchen, arms waving around and almost knocking into Moira, carrying a fresh pot of coffee to Ethan. Melinda slicked a polished curl behind her ear, hiding her bemused smile behind her mug of coffee.

"Be careful, Rowan," Moira whisked the coffee pot over the little girl's head as she skidded into the kitchen, her hair curtain of tangles over her face. Ethan burst out laughing at her hair style, unable to muffle his laughs by biting on his knuckles. Moira cleared her throat to suppress her own outburst and poured coffee into Ethan's mug.

"Is that enough for you, sir?" she asked. Ethan collected himself and nodded at the young apparition.

"Yeah, thanks Moira," he said, lifting his mug as if toasting to her. Her brown eyes smoldered over him, Ethan instinctively leaning back on the stool, casting a sideways glance at the distracted Melinda.

Taking a compact comb from her purse, Melinda combed through Rowan's tangles as Emilee loaded her breakfast plate with as many chocolate chip pancakes her conscience would allow.

"You're gonna eat them all!" Rowan complained, attempting to tug away from Melinda to get her share of pancakes.

"I'll save you one," Emilee sang while drenching her breakfast in maple syrup

"Yeah! One! You jerk!"

Emilee shrugged, but left more than one pancake for her sister.

_"This is so picture perfect. I could puke,"_ a voice growled in her left ear.

Emilee perked up, a fork dangling from her mouth.

_"To be honest, it's kind of refreshing to see a family getting along like this."_

Emilee cast her family a glance but none of them seemed to notice the other presences. Rowan was keeping herself still while Melinda braided her hair and Moira was too engaged in conversation with Ethan to notice anything else in the room.

"Rowan is going to love the school here. She'll make so many friends and…."

Or she's ignoring it, Emilee supposed to herself. She flicked her eyes back towards the empty doorway, half expecting to see Tate or some other blood stained apparition. Whoever had been there was gone. Or at least silent.

"It's a great school system," Ethan agreed, eyes scanning over the paper and ignoring Moira creeping closer to him.

Emilee felt the familiar churning of her stomach and inhaled deeply to calm her anxiety. The maid's hand was traveling to her father's back, and she shot her a warning glare. Moira hesitated but returned to a less flirtatious stance.

_"No one is going to hurt you, Emilee."_

Despite the sudden warmth in the room, goose bumps prickled over her arms. Violet had suddenly appeared a few feet from Rowan, her brown eyes watching Melinda's fingers weave the little girl's curls into an elegant braid. But it wasn't Violet talking to her.

The ghost put her finger to her lips, signaling to Emilee no one could sense her energy. Realizing she still had a fork dangling from her mouth, Emilee squeezed past Melinda to set it and her plate on the island.

"I'll be right back," she said and slipped out of the kitchen.

_"She fucking heard me."_

_"You're loud as hell. Of course she fucking heard you."_

The goose bumps lead to a chill over her body as she circled around the hallway, into the dining room. It felt colder for a moment and Emilee paused, her green eyes raking over every inch of the room. The voices fell silent again, but she felt a spirit pass her, as if trying to run away.

"I know you're here. You're just not revealing yourself to me," Emilee growled through her teeth, following the cold breeze back into the hall. The ice freezing her stomach into a block told her to head for the basement door.

_"You're running from her? That's hilarious."_

_"I don't want her near me!"_

Emilee stopped before the basement door, her hand froze over the knob. The breeze hovered behind the door, a gray mist churning at her eye level and Emilee watched as a pair of striking eyes started to glare back at her from behind the glass. A woman with sharp features and glossy, red hair pierced through the reflection, as if resenting the fact Emilee had followed her.

"If you didn't want me to follow you, then why did you start talking to me?" Emilee asked and the woman scoffed.

"I _wasn'_t talking to you," she snarled, rolling her eyes and then vanished.

_Bitch,_ Emilee wanted to spit but dropped her hand back to her side. Turning back around, her face collided with Tate's chest, almost knocking her over.

"What the-?!"

She held her nose, giving it a ginger rub and checked to make sure it wasn't bleeding.

"Hayden is bipolar like that," he shrugged. Emilee glared at him through her tousled bangs, her hand still covering her nose.

"Ugh! Can you not?!" she snapped, tossing her messy hair back over her shoulders and straightening her posture.

"You ran into me," Tate cocked an eyebrow, but his face remained blank otherwise. Emilee noticed how he seemed bored, a complete one eighty from her last encounter with him.

_And he has the audacity to call someone else bipolar._

"Is there a reason your personality snaps at the push of a button?" Emilee crossed her arms, setting her face into the best glare she could. Tate's eyebrows furrowed, his bored expression melting into confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

It was Emilee's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"You're kidding me."

She leaned forward. A strand of auburn hair brushed over her crossed arms and the V in her tank top dipped. She was too busy mocking his memory to realize it and Tate cast his eyes to the opposite wall.

"You fucking threatened me. Or tried to seduce me last time we were alone."

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart," Tate laughed, sending a chill through Emilee's back. "You were putty in my hands either way."

"Excuse you? I have a boyfriend, you fucking psycho."

Tate rolled his eyes. It was no surprise her hostility hadn't simmered away and Tate felt slightly offended at how she insisted on being such a complication when they interacted. If her energies weren't constantly yanking him off his feet, he could leave her alone. He would, too. There was nothing interesting about this girl. She was different from other girls, but not in the charming way Violet was.

Either way, Tate didn't want to be around Emilee. Even so, getting on her nerves brought its own sense of accomplishment, so, he decided to follow their usual pattern.

"Really? Why don't you talk about him?" he demanded.

Emilee let out a pretentious, "Ha!" that made him flinch.

"I don't talk about him with you. Doesn't mean I don't have one."

Tate chewed his lips, keeping his soulless eyes on her. The red head tensed her thin body, her green eyes blaring with dislike, not hate. There was that sense of desire, Tate sensed. Maybe not in a sexual way, but she wanted him around, whether she admitted it. Or realized it for that matter.

"Well, as much as I would love to stick around and talk about your sex life," his comment made her jaw drop. "Oh, or lack thereof...well, I don't care. I have things to do."

His sarcasm made anger heat her skin. Tate smirked before disappearing and Emilee let out a low growl.

_I fucking hate ghosts, sometimes. Assholes._

Collecting herself, and suddenly realizing how her stomach was growling, Emilee strode back into the kitchen.

"You better get a move on, Em," Ethan urged as she reappeared. The coffee brewing in the pot was almost gone and Emilee swiped her pancakes from the island top as she slid her way back to her father.

"Where did Melinda and Rowan go?" she asked while tearing into her breakfast.

"Picking out the perfect First Day of School Outfit," he said with a slight lyspe and higher pitched voice. Emilee's laugh was muffled by pancake dough.

"You're just mean."

"What?" Ethan looked genuinely confused, peering at her over the rims of his glasses.

Emilee smiled and rolled her eyes, shoving a forkful of chocolate chips into her mouth. Before she could say anything else, the doorbell rang. Ethan's tie whipped with his torso as he jumped and turned, dark eyebrows drawing together in surprise.

"Who in the hell would be stopping over this early?" He pulled his suit sleeve back to check his watch and straightened his tie before striding out of the kitchen.

Licking syrup from her lips, Emilee scampered after her father. She was about to cross into the light of the main hall when a force almost knocked her backwards. Feeling as if she had face planted into a wall, Emilee slipped back into the shadows and kept herself hidden behind the wall of the dining room.

"Tate…?" Emilee glimpsed around the shadows but she knew it wasn't his energy making her skin crawl.

She heard the door open, the goose bumps feeling like they were bubbling over her bones. Ethan clear his throat.

"Good morning," he greeted. Emilee recognized the friendly but slightly irritated tone her father always adopted when he was surprised.

"Hello! I'm sorry to stop by so early, but I saw we had new neighbors!"

There was a pause and Emilee peeked around to see Ethan hold the door open for an older, blond woman and a young boy. He looked about Rowan's age. His sunny blond hair matched the woman's, but she looked far too old to be his mother. Emilee noted how she looked as polished as Melinda did, her dress fitting the curves of her body and high heels perfectly shiny in the hallway's light.

Goosebumps melted into a cold sweat when she turned her attention back to the boy.

_He's not dead. Why is he giving off this type of energy?_

Then he noticed her. His eyes, despite being a soft blue, were as endless and soulless as Tate's. Emilee felt her body paralyze, marveling at how a human could have such a negative energy and his _eyes..._

"Michael and I just got back from a summer vacation two days ago, otherwise I would have dropped by sooner," the woman chirped. Emilee didn't like the smile she had spread across her face. Despite her shining eyes, the smile was too forced.

"Ah, well, welcome back," Ethan returned the smile and slipped his hands into his pockets. "I'm Ethan Davin. My girlfriend and daughters are upstairs getting ready for school."

"It's nice to meet you Ethan. I'm Constance Langdon," the woman shook his hand lightly and looked around the hallway. She didn't notice Emilee studying the little boy gripping the straps of his blue back pack. "Michael was just getting ready to catch the bus soon. I thought I would say hello first."

Ethan smiled.

"How old are you, Michael?"

_"Keep him away from Rowan." _

"I'm nine," he replied, an innocent smile on his face. Emilee's skin froze.

"Mom...?"

"My daughter is eight," Ethan said.

_No. Don't say anything about Rowan, _Emilee wanted to shout but bit her tongue. How did he not sense his dead wife?

"Sounds like you might have a friend!" Constance cheered. Emilee flinched.

_How about no?_

Michael beamed up at Constance, who smoothed his hair. Emilee felt her eyes burn. Deciphering the kind of energy this boy was emitting was impossible.

_Hell, Tate is easier to figure out, compared to this little twerp. _

There was the sound of running steps, Emilee's concentration interrupted. Rowan bounded into view, the skirt of her black and white checkered dress twirling around her knees. Her braid trailed down her back, a red ribbon tied at the end. She bounced in her black flats, her face light and alive with pride.

"I feel so pretty! What do you think, Dad?" she asked, twirling for him.

"I think you look lovely."

Rowan curtseyed playfully and Constance folded her hands in front of her face.

"Such a beautiful young lady," she breathed. Michael was staring at her too and this made Emilee want to step out of the shadows and shove him and his mother? Grandmother? Out the door.

"I look like Emilee, Dad!"

This made her animosity melt away.

"I look like a dancer, like Emilee!"

Rowan twirled again. Constance glanced at Ethan.

"Is Emilee your other daughter?"

He nodded.

"She's my eldest. She has a habit of disappearing," he added, glancing around for her.

"I'm right here," Emilee stretched, finally stepping out of the dining room but made it look as if she had just been passing through. "Hi," she greeted Constance with a smile and a stretch.

Constance nodded a greeting.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Constance and this is my son, Michael."

"Likewise," Emilee did her best to not shoot a glare of daggers at the boy. How would she explain that one to her father?

"Shall we wait for the bus? I'm assuming Rowan and Michael are going to be classmates," Ethan guessed, hoping this new boy would be able to show Rowan around. Give her someone to talk to and help her adjust to a new life.

_"No. Rowan is going to switch schools."_

Emilee bit the tip of her tongue, placing her hand on her sister's shoulder. The air was tightening and Emilee made out the low moan of a spirit from the dining room.

_"Emilee, please...!" _

"Go away," she hissed under her breath.

"I think so. The bus should be here soon," Constance said as Ethan picked up Rowan's back pack and started out the door. The kids were studying each other, Michael seeming to avoid Emilee's glare. Thankfully, none of them could hear Emilee hissing under her breath.

"Your dress is pretty," Michael said awkwardly and Rowan beamed, her cheeks turning a faint pink.

"Thank you." Rowan smoothed the skirt of it. Emilee didn't realize she was pushing her sister behind her until the girl pushed her hand off her shoulder. "Emilee, are you okay?"

_"Don't say anything to her." _

Emilee met her sister's inquiring eyes and forced a smile.

_How am I supposed to protect her when I can't tell her what's dangerous? _

"Yeah, just…have a good first day."

Rowan nodded, waving to Melinda as she descended the stairs, adjusting her pearl earrings.

"Let's go, Rowan," she said and gave Emilee a kiss on the top of her head. "Are you going to be alright? I just want to drive Rowan to school and I'll be back before I go into work."

"I'll be alright. I can walk this morning," Emilee replied. She shot the boy another glare but Melinda was preoccupied with adjusting her brown heels to notice. Rowan waved to Emilee before following Melinda out the door.

"See you later, Emilee," Melinda waved.

_I really should insist on driving next time, _she scolded herself while catching up with Rowan, who had already met up with Constance and Ethan.

Michael felt Emilee's eyes boring into his back as he followed shortly behind and decided to avoid eye contact. She turned around when the door clicked shut. Calming the fire swirling in her chest, Emilee turned to the stair case. She froze once she met the stunned gaze of Tate, whose eyes flickered from the door to her. His energy pulsed with fear.

**Boy am I glad Finals Week is over. My brain is so fried...gah. But, I hope to be uploading much more! I'm trying to keep my postings about ten to fourteen days apart. I am trying to deliver more quality to each one, you know? Make sure everything gets tied together before shit starts hitting the fan. I hope this is interesting! I'm really working on character development...so, I hope I am doing a good job! Thank you so much for reading! **

**Until next time, **

**~SNR**


	5. In Loving Memory

**Hello again and thank you for making it to this next chapter! I greatly appreciate the reviews I have gotten thus far and the favorites! Thank you, MidnightShadeux for your review and following the story. Your comment made me very happy! Also, thank you Jess52325 for your favorite and your follow! **

**I hope this next chapter is enjoyable. Thank you for reading! **

"You're screwed when that medium finds out," Hayden taunted.

Tate's eyes were wide over his knuckles, his hand curled over his mouth. Hayden folded her arms over her chest, annoyed at how Tate had hidden away in his shadowy chair.

_Quit being such a little bitch, _she wanted to snap. _Nothing is_ really going_ to happen. _

Despite her irritation with Tate, Hayden kept her mouth shut but her eyes blazing. Tate ignored her. His red sweater sleeves were yanked over his hands and he kept forcing the chair on its back legs as he pushed his feet against the wall. As much as she wanted to scold him, she couldn't help wondering,

"Why do you care so much?"

The question cut through him, seeming to break the icy nerves he had. Tate lurched forward, catching his balance as the front legs of his chair flattened on the concrete.

"She's going to be around a lot...and chances are that boy is going to be with her too," he mumbled.

"You mean, your mother and your son?" Hayden licked her lip. Tate ignored the sadistic joy in her voice. He didn't want to remember what that boy was. What he was to Tate. The reason Violet would never speak to him again, let alone forgive him.

"It's like I can never forget," Tate choked. Chills curled over him and Hayden watched a shiver rack his body. Feeling a pang of sympathy, Hayden uncrossed her arms and walked over to Tate.

"Look," she started, "you really fucked up. I get that."

Tate glared at her through his messy bangs.

"Understatement."

Hayden waved her hand and huffed a sigh. Helping Tate took more energy out of her than she would have liked, but, what choice did she have? No one else was going to try. As far as she knew, at least.

"But, maybe you can start over," she tried, softening her tone.

"How the hell can I start over when that...that _thing_ is constantly around?"

Hayden was careful to not smudge her eyeliner when she rubbed her eyes.

"Well, that medium upstairs can probably help you out. You certainly spend a lot of time following her around."

Tate felt his face burn, his fingers twitching in his curled fist.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Hayden plated her hands on her hips, smirking.

"You follow her around just as much as Violet. Hell, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're getting..." she drew her finger down his chest, "desperate."

Tate growled and knocked her hand away. Hayden's smirk remained plastered across her pretty face but she drew back.

"I'll tell you the same thing I told the medium," Tate snapped. "_Emilee's_ energies keep yanking at _me_. I'm trying to figure out what she wants so I can be left alone."

Hayden rolled her eyes.

"And you think you're the only one getting yanked at?" she exasperated. "Hell, it's easy to ignore if you _try_."

Tate stared at her, Hayden chewing her lower lip and inspecting her nails.

"You mean...you feel it too?"

Hayden looked back at him, her eyes wide with mock disbelief. She gave a drawn out, "Yeah" to further Tate's embarrassment and recrossed her arms. Tate tossed the idea back and forth in his mind. The tugging had finally left him because Emilee had long gone to school.

"I'll ask her when she gets back," he said. Hayden rolled her eyes and stalked away.

"I should have known you wouldn't ignore her," she snapped over her shoulder.

…

Emilee tapped her pen against her notebook. The classroom was too hot and the sweat sticking to her was annoying enough without the student behind her constantly popping his gum. She wanted to ask him to quit it, but she was positive her chin was stuck to her palm. Her elbow felt as though it would have to be surgically removed from the desktop.

_Ten more minutes, _she stared at the clock, tapping her pen in sync with the second hand. Her teacher's lecture had become monotonous background noise by that point.

"…you can find the syllabus online. I will email all of you the link…"

"_Psst_." The gum popping had stopped and the cool wisp of spearmint swirled over her shoulder and around her nose.

Emilee kept her eyes on the clock, ignoring the student behind her.

_Nine more minutes…_

"_Psst, _hey," there was a tap on her shoulder. "Ginger."

Emilee stopped tapping her pen and peeled her chin from her hand. Turning her head, she met the steel grey eyes of the gum popper. She cocked her eyebrow and he handed her a piece of folded up paper. Shifting back around, Emilee crossed her legs, her black skirt sticking to her nude tights.

_You new? _ The paper read. She cast the smirking boy a look, but he leaned back in his desk, a cocky smile plastered across his face.

_Great. I love jocks, _Emilee wanted to write but slid the note into her new textbook and resumed her former position. There was a sigh from the boy and a creak from his desk indicated he was leaning forward. Emilee ignored him, tossing her pony tail back over her shoulder. Unfortunately, the boy was persistent and gave her white blouse a tug.

"I don't bite," he whispered and Emilee rolled her eyes.

"I'm trying to concentrate."

Emilee resumed tapping her pen and kept her eyes on the clock.

"That clock is interesting, huh?"

_Six minutes…_

"I find the minute hand most fascinating," she whispered in a mock, British accent.

The boy reclined in his desk again, sighing between smacks of spearmint gum. Emilee doodled a poinsettia in her notebook, figuring a splash of red ink would be enough stimulus to last five more minutes. He tugged at the ribbon holding her pony tail in place and Emilee met his eyes.

"What?" she didn't mean to hiss and the boy held his hands up, as if surrendering.

"Don't chop my head off, geez."

Emilee last thing she wanted to do was get in trouble on the first day. At the same time, the way the boy took such interest in her was a little flattering.

"Why are you bothering me?" she snapped anyway.

The boy blinked. Emilee studied his face, which was rather attractive. His jawline was defined and angular, full lips that weren't too thick and his brown hair spiked in the front.

_Not my type, but, cute enough, I guess. _

She thought back to her own boyfriend, remembering that she should sneak a peek at her phone to see if he had texted her back yet.

"I wanted to know, what period do you have lunch?" the boy asked.

Emilee stared at him, a crease pinching between her eyebrows and she rested her elbow on the boy's desk.

"Next. You?"

His smile was an answer enough.

"Looks like we can eat together," he said, his lips pulling into a half smile.

"Um…sure…."

_I really want to go to the library._

"What's your name?" he asked her and Emilee returned to reality.

"Emilee. You?"

"Dante."

She would have reached for a hand shake if the teacher hadn't said,

"Excuse me, but if the two of you are finished-" Emilee swiveled back around, her eyes wide, "-I would like to finish what I was saying."

Emilee pressed her lips together.

"I'm sorry sir," Dante came to her defense, leaning back in his desk again, "we're done."

"As I was saying," the instructor adjusted the knot of his striped tie, "please, start your research early. I want your papers to be the best they can be..."

Emilee found her thoughts wandering back home, wondering what Violet was doing to pass the day.

_I hope she knows she is welcome to read my books, _Emilee began to color in her poinsettia's petals. _I should have left her a note or something. Then again..._Emilee glanced at the clock.

Two minutes.

_It's her house._

Emilee resumed tapping her pen in sync with the escaping seconds, resisting the urge to pack her notebook and history text into her bag. Dante kept silent for the last few minutes.

One minute.

What did Tate do all day long? Was he snooping around her room, sitting in her chair because he knew it would annoy her? Emilee's stomach growled and the seconds taunted her. Lunch felt so close. She was itching to tear into her sandwich surrounded by old books in the school library.

Thirty seconds.

_Maybe Dante will come...but I really just want to be left alone. _

"Anyway, we will continue tomorrow," the teacher concluded and books clunking into backpacks meshed with the tone of the bell.

Emilee scooped up her notebook and secured the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder. Studying her map of the school, Emilee mingled with her classmates out into the hallway, heading towards the library.

"Emilee!" Dante's backpack bounced against his back as he jogged to catch up with her. "Hey, the cafeteria is this way."

"I know," she replied, not looking at him and managing to not knock into anyone. "I'm not going to the cafeteria."

Dante paused, wanting to ask where she was going. But, he decided to follow her. There was something strangely fascinating about this new girl, like she didn't care if others found her weird or not.

"You're a little strange," he said, keeping with her stride.

Emilee replied with a confused side-glance and cocked her eyebrow.

"What makes you think that?"

Dante rubbed the back of his head.

"Most girls I meet-"

Emilee waved her hand to cut him off.

"I don't need the You're-Not-Like-Other-Girls-Speech again," she sighed. "I know I'm not, thank you."

Emilee straightened her posture and lengthened her stride. Dante watched the auburn curls of her pony tail sway across her back, contrasting from the stark white of her blouse.

"You're awfully defensive," Dante remarked.

He sounded as if he was unsure of following her anymore. Emilee shrugged and traced her finger over the route to the library.

"Do you know where..."

She paused, staring down the hallway. The students were parting, some casting curious glances at the boy walking down the middle of the hall. Emilee would have ignored him if it weren't for the fact that his face was painted like a skull. Other than that, she admired his taste in coats and his hair was neatly slicked back.

"Who's that?" Emilee asked. Dante searched over the sea of students she could be referring to.

"Who?"

"The guy in the-" she pointed and glanced back down the hall but the boy was gone.

_What the hell? He was just there! _

Dante followed her finger but couldn't figure out who was grabbing her attention.

"I mean, there's one of my teammates..." Dante gestured to a bear of a junior with a bushy, brown beard. He was smiling at a pretty blonde with a pixie cut and she beamed while raving about a hiking trail she had been on during a camping trip.

"No...there was a student..." Emilee trailed off.

_How could someone like that just disappear?!_

No one in the hallway was staring in disbelief or curiosity. Freshmen huddled at lockers and a group of tall athletes waved papers in the air. Emilee managed to weave through the thick of torsos, no one but Dante regarding her startled persistence. There was no use in saying anything else to Dante about the seeming apparition. Not that she wanted to anyway, but she was already making enough of a reputation for herself. This boy didn't need to know about her gift.

_There wasn't any energy, so, that wasn't a ghost. Maybe just my imagination...or someone in Drama Club. But how could someone dressed like that just slip away without an explanation? I would have overheard someone say something about him..._

"Well, here's the library," Dante had stopped walking and Emilee was almost lost in the crowd of students.

Grateful to be getting out of the congested hallway, Emilee followed him into the quiet library. Shutting the noise of chattering students and the bell ringing, Emilee glanced around for Dante, who was standing at the opposite wall.

"What's that?" she asked, too far away to read the words on the plaque. Dante turned to her, looking confused.

"You mean, you haven't heard about this?" he asked, Emilee walking up and reading the plaque.

"...No, I haven't."

_In Memory of Our Fallen Brothers and Sisters...what happened? _

Dante inhaled deeply, turning his grey eyes back to the memorial.

"Back in 1994, there was a shooting and these are all the kids that died," he explained. Dante slipped his hands in his jean pockets and Emilee carefully read over the names.

"Why would someone shoot these kids?" was all she could ask.

"That's the weird part," Dante said, "no one knows why the kid snapped. My dad said it was just because he was psycho or something."

Emilee met Dante's eyes. She didn't like the look he was giving her, as if he expected her to say something. As if she was supposed to know the reason why it happened.

"I guess...but maybe the kid was bullied or something. It doesn't make sense that a person would just kill their classmates for the hell of it."

"Yeah, but, sometimes people are just born psychopaths," Dante said.

Emilee watched him shift uncomfortably and focus his attention back to the names. Tracing her finger over the name Chloe Stapleton, she sent a silent prayer, hoping the girl was resting in peace.

_There are enough troubled spirits, _Emilee added at the end. _I hope you and your fellow students aren't any of them._

"My dad said Kyle Greenwell and my uncle were good friends," Dante said finally.

Emilee didn't dare to change the topic.

"They played football together or something. Kyle was an all star and helped my uncle a lot."

"What about your dad?" Emilee asked before she could stop herself. Dante didn't seem offended, though.

"He didn't know Kyle very well. Dad had long since graduated, but, he came back a lot to help with the Speech and Debate team and stuff, so, he met Kyle a couple times when they were around for practice. Said he was nice, for a jock."

Dante smiled at the last part, turning his eyes to Emilee.

"I'm sorry that it happened to you. Death isn't easy to deal with."

All Dante could do was give a light shrug and study the names again.

"No, it's not. But, as hard as my dad and uncle both took it, they moved on. They know Kyle is in a better place with Chloe. They were together, Kyle and Chloe. My uncle always tells me that he thought she was the prettiest cheerleader, though."

Emilee laughed lightly, gripping the strap of her bag.

"Anyway, enough with the depressing stuff."

Dante stretched his arm and turned away from the plaque. Emilee followed him and sat down at a computer.

"I think I want to start with that history paper," she said, loading the Internet and pulled her lunch from her bag. Dante sat down next to her, almost faking a pout.

"I just said 'enough with the depressing stuff'."

**At Home...**

Rowan rummaged through the refrigerator, hoping to find some sweets.

"Would you like me to make you a snack?" Moira's voice came from the doorway and Rowan peeked over the counter. She felt strange being with the maid alone. Something was off about her, or was it just her eye that was creepy?

"Sure," Rowan said anyway and hopped up onto a seat at the island. Moira walked over the refrigerator as Rowan pulled her back pack up to the seat next to her.

"Did you have a good first day?" Moira asked as she set a jar of strawberry jam on the counter.

Rowan nodded and her thoughts wandered to Michael.

"I'm really glad I met Michael today. And I wish Melinda had let me ride the bus with him," she half whined.

"Melinda is always insisting to help you girls," Moira smiled and Rowan nodded.

"I really like Melinda. I just wanted to talk to Michael today."

Moira spread some jam on a piece of cinnamon bread she had baked earlier that day. She tried to hide her shaking hand and kept the concern out of her voice.

"We're in the same class though," Rowan continued, her blue eyes focusing outside. She didn't notice Moira's dropping the knife and propped her head on her hand. "He's really nice. And he sat with me on the bus ride home. Constance seems really nice too. Don't you think she's pretty, Moira?"

Moira felt her skin heat up and bit her tongue.

"I mean, she's an old lady," Rowan blurted out, "but she has really pretty clothes. And she offered to do my hair one day for school. And she said I was a lovely young lady."

_Constance, you better not do anything to this little girl, _Moira cursed but handed Rowan her plate.

"Here, I made this bread earlier and you get the first piece," she said kindly, her mood softening at the sudden excitement Rowan got.

"The first one?" she repeated, staring at the perfectly prepared cinnamon bread.

"The very first one. It has raisins and cinnamon in it."

Moira folded her hands over her apron and smiled as Rowan chewed her first bite with relish.

"You're the best cook in the world," she said after she swallowed. Rowan's blue eyes swam with admiration and Moira chuckled at her innocent joy.

"Thank you."

With another bite and wide eyes, Rowan asked,

"Will you teach me to cook like you?"

Moira laughed and nodded.

"I can teach you my secret cookie recipe," she said, "but it's top secret."

Rowan held out her tiny pinky, suddenly very serious.

"I swear I won't tell anyone about it," she vowed and Moira locked her pinky with Rowan's.

All she could do was chuckle and Rowan seated herself back into the stool, continuing to munch on the cinnamon bread. The sound of the front door opening then closing caused them both to pause until Emilee strode into the kitchen.

"Hi Moira, hey twerp," she gave her sister a rub on the top of her head, "how was school?"

"Awesome!" Rowan exclaimed through a mouthful of cinnamon bread. "I love it here!"

Emilee laughed and her phone buzzed in her pocket, cutting her off from asking Moira for a piece of bread.

"I'll be right back."

She walked into the dining room, overjoyed to see Cameron's name on her caller ID.

"Hey you," Emilee suppressed a squeal.

"Hey babe! I wanted to let you know something," Cameron's usual chipper was enough to send Emilee's spirit soaring. The way he always sounded so excited to talk to her...

"What's up? I've been here forever and this is the first time you've called," she teased. There was a shift in the air and Emilee felt the cool electricity from a spirit pulse behind her. She waved her hand to make whoever it was go away.

"Well, I was looking up directions and costs to see if I could come stay with you for a weekend," Cameron sounded as if he was stretching out on his bed. Emilee pictured the usual, mischievous glint in his green eyes and smiled.

"That would be amazing!" she started running up the stairs to her bedroom. Throwing open the door, she let out a startled gasp at suddenly meeting Tate's soulless eyes and almost dropped her phone.

"Babe? You alright?"

Emilee gaped, pulling the phone away from her ear and over her pressed it against her shirt.

"Go the hell away!" she hissed at the ghost. Her heart pounded. She didn't care Tate was mid-protest before he vanished and she raised her phone to her ear again. "I'm sorry, love. I slipped and Rowan startled me."

There was a pause, but Cameron seemed to buy the story.

"Alright...are things all good in that house?"

"Yeah! There's nothing that would scare you too much," Emilee joked and Cameron let out a long sigh.

"All those big, bad ghosties, huh?"

Emilee giggled. Unannounced to her, Tate stood outside her bedroom door as she flopped onto her bed, happily chattering with her boyfriend. His irritation boiled, but he was careful to not let it brim to the point where it would be obvious to her. Not yet, anyway.

_God damn. What could he be saying that is so interesting? _

Tate blew at his bangs and leaned against the wall, waiting for the click of Emilee's phone. Instead, all he could make out for the next half hour was, "When?" and "I love you!" and "That should be fine!" and "Melinda and Dad will be out for a while..."

"Dear God," Tate tensed at the tone Emilee's voice had suddenly shifted to. Without a second's hesitation, he dropped back down into the basement, seating himself back into his chair.

"Let me guess," Hayden said from beside him, "she blew you off?"

"Boyfriend called," Tate exhaled and dangled his arms at his sides. "So, it'll be another three hours before she fucking pays attention to me."

Hayden stuck out her lower lip in a fake pout.

"Awww. Is Tate jealous?"

His expression twisted into disgust.

"Of course not," he snapped, "I told you earlier, I just want to know what she wants from me so she'll leave me alone-"

"And you can go back to your usual stalking of Violet."

Hayden smirked.

"Shut up," Tate snarled.

**Thank you again for reading! I hope everything is interesting and you're enjoying the story as much as I am writing it! I would greatly appreciate reviews. Please, tell me what you think! Thank you again for reading! **

**See you soon! **

**~SNR**


	6. Sweet Psychopath

**Thank you zypherblade for your review, FloraTheCake and Courtney Tamara for following and Courtney Tamara (Again!), ****Cris Bezarius and Liquidation for favoriting! **

**I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the feedback, it means the world!**

Rowan sat at the edge of her bed, staring at the wardrobe across from her. The ticking of the grandfather clock down the hallway echoed into her mind, mingling with the calm beating of her heart. Her blank eyes stared out her door, which creaked open wider.

Nothing was outside it. Only the giggles from Emilee's room mixed with the ticking of the clock but her sister sounded so distant. Rowan kept her empty stare out the door, looking at the shadows. A coolness touched her cheek but she didn't flinch.

_Follow me. _

She tilted her head, the breeze caressing over her shoulder. It felt as though someone was pulling her forward. Unable to do anything else, Rowan touched her feet to the floor and followed the cool breeze into the hallway.

_The clock is so pretty, _she thought, a small smile on her entranced face. The gold pendulum reflected the light leaking out of Emilee's room and glinted in Rowan's eyes.

_Look at the glass, _the voice whispered in her ear. Rowan felt as though someone were caressing her hair and glanced behind her. Expecting to see Violet, Rowan almost called her name but there was no one there. Rowan sat down in front of the clock, staring up at the face.

_Why is the second hand going backwards? _she wanted to ask.

_Look at the glass, _the voice repeated but Rowan was staring at the thin hand twitching over the six. Her eyes glazed over, smile remaining and she hugged her knees.

When she finally looked at the glass, Rowan met the faint blue eyes and neat, blond hair of Michael, who was crouching behind her. Rowan looked behind her but he wasn't there, like he was in the glass. When she looked back, he was much closer, so much closer Rowan could see the dimples in his cheeks and his white teeth as he smiled at her.

"Hi Michael," Rowan whispered. She reached for the glass, her finger tips gracing over the surface as the pendulum swung left and right. Michael's smile widened, his blue eyes searching over her brown curls and glassy eyes.

"Come over," she said and Michael shook his head.

"I'm going back home now," he said and before Rowan could protest, he disappeared. The cold feeling was gone and Rowan realized she was shivering.

"Rowan, what are you doing out here this late?" Emilee's voice demanded from behind her. Rowan turned around, Emilee's heart jolting when she recognized the empty stare on Rowan's face. The little girl blinked a few times and her eyes melted back into the brimming warmth they usually were. Glancing around, Rowan stood up and hugged herself.

"Rowan," Emilee caught the last remnants of the breeze and pulled her zip-up hoodie tighter around her shoulders. "Rowan, was someone talking to you?"

Her sister only stared at her then looked back at the grandfather clock. When she finally focused on Emilee again, Rowan looked scared.

"I don't remember why I came out here," she said, her face growing pale. Rowan couldn't make out the expression on her sister's face. Only the outline of Emilee standing in front of her was illuminated by the gold light from her bedroom but the girl could sense her sister's concern.

"Come on," Emilee leaned over and picked Rowan up, carrying her bridal-style back to her room. "We can talk about this tomorrow."

The softness of Rowan's sheets was more welcoming than she could remember, the warmth lingering in the blankets instantly comforting her. Rowan nestled into bed, her stuffed tiger hugged close to her chest. Emilee sat down next to her, caressing Rowan's curls out of her face until she fell asleep. Emilee lingered for a few more minutes, waiting for Rowan to fall deeper into sleep.

When she was sure her sister was asleep, Emilee stood and walked over to the window, closing it to block to the draft. There were no lingering energies but Emilee still found herself staring outside at Constance's house. One of the upstairs lights was on and Emilee could make out the silhouette of someone pacing around. Not allowing her paranoid curiosity get the best of her, Emilee drew the curtains shut, her fingers gripping the silky fabric.

Despite the lack of energies and her knowing what she felt was not one of the ghosts in the house, Emilee called to Tate anyway. She cast one more look at Rowan, who slept soundly under the mass of purple blankets and her face was half buried in her tiger. Emilee let her fingers slide from the curtain and returned to her bedroom to see Tate glaring at her from the foot of her bed. His hands were resting in his jean pockets, black eyes locked on her.

"What do you want?" he asked. Emilee found the crack in his voice surprising.

"Were you messing with Rowan a few minutes ago?"

Tate's eyebrows furrowed.

"She was sitting in front of the grandfather clock," she continued. "As if she had been lured there."

Emilee's green eyes bored into his, searching for an answer, as she circled around him to her bed. Tate followed her gaze until he had turned around and watched her sit down. The mattress sank as she crossed her legs. Emilee was still waiting for an answer, not blinking.

"I don't know why she was there," Tate said finally.

Emilee inhaled, her chest filling the gap between her skin and the dip of her tank top. Tate didn't break eye contact, as much as her stare made him uncomfortable.

_What does she want me to say? _

"What energy did you feel?" he asked and Emilee let herself exhale.

"I didn't recognize it. All I could catch was how cold it was."

Her eyes seemed to glow, but it wasn't like the warm glow Violet always had. The kind of glow Tate had fallen in love with. Emilee made darkness twist and Tate especially didn't like the energies she was giving off. She felt callous and detached from any sort of warmth.

"Why are you blaming me?" Tate demanded, his aura sparking an electric anger. Emilee resisted the shock, closed her eyes and folded her hands over her mouth.

"I'm not blaming you," she defended, "I'm asking you, can I trust you around my sister?"

"Why wouldn't you? I don't have anything against your sister."

Emilee opened her eyes again. Her eyes pierced through his chest and Tate felt his torso tighten. He tugged the sleeves of his striped sweater over his knuckles and pressed his lips together, feeling both frustrated and concerned. For once, her energy felt as though it were weakening him.

"I won't do anything to her," Tate repeated, "I won't. I promise."

Emilee continued to glare at him, unsure as to whether or not she should believe him.

_He's not the only ghost in the house, _she reminded herself. _He hasn't done anything dangerous...and his energy isn't as threatening. Maybe I can trust him...at least, a little bit. _

Emilee relaxed her shoulders and cleared her throat. Tate was glancing around the room when she brought her focus back to him and she straightened her back.

"Alright," she sighed. Tate met her eyes again, doing his best to keep his expression blank. Emilee could decipher the ticks of anticipation and flecks of nervousness in his eyes.

"I don't trust you, not fully," she clarified, "but if you're not a threat to Rowan, then, there's no point in my being hostile anymore. I guess."

The tension soothed away and Tate felt his body relax. He nodded, unable to say anything else and Emilee stood up.

"I have things to do," she said and brushed beside him. Tate watched her leave her bedroom, shutting the door behind her, and returned to his chair in the basement.

Doing her best to not worry about the incident, Emilee skidded around the corner to the kitchen, twirling into view as Melinda sipped a mug of chai tea. She had good news, despite being worried about her sister. Knowing Cameron was visiting was enough to send her spirits back up.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" she mused and Emilee gave a passionate sigh as she leaned back on the sink.

"Cameron is going to be staying over next weekend."

Melinda set her mug down too quickly, the bottom of it slamming against the counter top. She cast a glance at Emilee, who didn't seem to notice the sudden hostility. She was too consumed in thoughts of Cameron and what they were going to do, it appeared.

"Your father is alright with this?" Melinda asked a little too harshly.

Emilee gave her a look, wondering what the tone of dislike was about.

"Yeah...is that alright with you?"

There was an air of defiance in her voice. Flinching, Melinda took another sip of her chai, biting on her comments about Cameron.

_No, I'm really not. You move here and don't you think it's weird he doesn't call or text you for the entire time you've lived here? _Melinda wanted to ask. _You finally talk to the little prick and _you're_ the one calling _him_. At least he finally answered his phone. _

"I don't mind him staying," Melinda lied.

She slurped down a large mouthful of her tea and fixed her eyes on the cabinet next to Emilee's hip. There was no use in saying anything else on the matter of Emilee's boyfriend. If he was staying for two days, Melinda felt obligated to bite her tongue and endure his arrogance. All that, coupled with his lack of chivalry towards Emilee.

_It will take a miracle for me to get through the weekend without giving the twerp an old-fashioned, Polish chewing out._

"Okay," Emilee studied Melinda's reaction but didn't dare to press the issue. She strode out of the kitchen and Melinda listened to her footsteps climb the stairs to her room. There was silence after the click of the door and Melinda let out a seething exhale.

"Are you alright, Miss Bogdan?" Moira drifted over to the opposite side of the counter.

Melinda rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"I _really_ hate the boy Emilee is dating."

Moira tilted her head.

"I can see that," the house keeper felt an alarm bubble in her stomach when she looked into Melinda's flaming eyes. "May I ask why?"

Melinda traced her finger over the rim of her mug. What seemed so easy to explain just a few minutes ago was suddenly difficult to articulate. At least, it was difficult to pick a good starting point to answer Moira's question.

"Should I start with how he is the most boring person on the face of the planet? Or that he is arrogant and thinks he knows more about my job than I do? Or that he doesn't treat Emilee like the wonderful girl she is?"

Moira raised her eyebrows. Melinda's lips pursed and her jaw tightened, an expression Moira was unaccustomed to seeing on her face.

"Would you like me to prepare another cup of tea for you?" she asked before prying more into Melinda's hatred for a teenage boy. Her fingers began to wander towards the yellow box of Lipton.

"That would be wonderful, Moira," Melinda relaxed herself. "Please have one with me, though."

Moira gave her a kind smile and began preparing two mugs of tea. There was so much animosity pumping from the woman's energy, Moira found it surprising Emilee didn't bother to come back into the kitchen to make sure everything was fine. Or at least come in and give a questioning stare. Moira kept her concern to herself, though, and Melinda continued her explanation after taking an exhilarating mouthful of her tea.

"Anyway, I think what most bothers me is that he doesn't _do_ anything," she said. "I don't expect Emilee to be taken out on fancy dates, but, it wouldn't kill this kid to treat her to a movie or something. Get her some coffee. Prove he loves her instead of looking at her like she's just some...arm candy."

A tea bag dipped into the mug, the house keeper's gaze still locked on Melinda. Moira handed her another mug and sighed.

"I guess it could just be due to how he is a teenager, but, I can see why you're concerned," Moira said and circled around the counter to sit at the island. "Maybe you could talk to Emilee about this?"

Melinda shook her head.

"No, Emilee would most likely just brush it off as me being overly-protective. If she would even acknowledge it at all," she sighed and Moira patted her shoulder.

"Perhaps Emilee will realize what you see and find someone better."

"Hopefully," Melinda pushed her bangs from her face and rested her forehead against her palm. "I have just had...feelings...that this boy hasn't been the most faithful, either."

Moira almost sputtered her tea but managed to keep her composure.

"What makes you say that?"

Melinda's finger started circling over the rim of the second mug again. She wished she had bitten her tongue, but, it was too late to take anything back at this point.

"It's just intuition. And I guess my past experiences make me incredibly suspicious of this boy."

Moira ran a list of possible things she could say. There was a sudden shift in the air that only she noticed, turning her head to see Vivien standing across from Melinda.

"Sorry, I smelled the tea and couldn't resist it anymore."

She drummed her fingers against the counter top, Melinda still unaware of her. Moira suppressed the urge to say anything to Vivien, but cast her a glance of, "What do you think I could say?". The ghosts both studied Melinda, who was running her hand through her brown curls, her eyes focused on a distant thought in her past.

"If you don't mind my asking," Moira broke the silence, "how did you and Mr. Davin meet?"

Melinda's eyes sparked with sudden light, as if her previous animosity had evaporated.

"We've known each other since high school," she replied. "We met my sophomore year, his senior year, of high school in an Advanced Placement Literature class."

Moira watched Melinda's cheeks turn pink. Vivien was smiling, stealing a glance at Moira and just as curious about the history of the Davins.

"I hated him at first," Melinda found herself smiling, "I thought he was _such_ a know-it-all."

Moira sipped her tea and Vivien kept herself from laughing. Melinda combed her fingers through her curls and looked at Moira. The house keeper smiled and swallowed her tea, hoping she would continue. The pulsing energies died down, but they still lingered.

_I feel it too, _Vivien lipped to her but kept her blue eyes blank of fear.

"Well, I got over it and got to know him," Melinda was saying, still unaware of Vivien. "Figured if he was so good at the class, why not try and study with him, you know?"

"You were devious, Miss Bogdon," Moira teased and Melinda laughed lightly.

"Yeah, it sounds pretty bad. But, I promise, I realized he was smart and the only one that would speak in class."

Moira chuckled and Vivien pressed her hand over her mouth to keep from being heard. Wondering if Melinda would continue, Vivien glanced back at the brunette and smoothed a strand of strawberry blond hair behind her ear. The woman appeared to fall more in love with Ethan Davin as she told Moira a favorite memory, how the two of them talked as teenagers in the school cafeteria. Vivien felt her heart hurt a little when Melinda's expression fell when she said,

"I found out he had been dating a girl for two years."

Moira finished the last of her tea and waited for Melinda to continue.

"I tried to avoid falling for him. After him and his girlfriend graduated, he proposed and they were married shortly after," Melinda sipped her tea. A sudden lump had formed in her throat, recalling the few memories she had of the late Mrs. Davin.

_Always bipolar as hell, _she couldn't help thinking. She didn't notice Moira flinch at the sudden stab of hatred she felt coming from her.

"Emilee looks just like her," Melinda said instead, wanting to bury her jealousy. The crack in her voice made Vivien shift from the counter over to Melinda's side, a warmth brushing the woman's shoulder. She perked up, but Moira distracted her.

"Miss Bogdon," the house keeper leaned forward, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "May I ask how you and Mr. Davin met again, later on?"

An uncomfortable pause lasted longer than any of the women wanted. Vivien felt Melinda's energies tense up and Moira watched it reflect in her arms. Her biceps tightened and her breath seemed to still in her chest, as if she didn't want to mention how she managed to re-insert herself into her teenage crush's life.

"I tried to forget about him," Melinda quickly defended herself, "but, college only made it worse. I wanted him there. I mean, after he graduated, he would visit the school on occasion and join me for lunch, but, he couldn't stop talking about his upcoming wedding. Not that I blamed him...but with all the _problems_ this woman had, could you blame me for being so bitter towards her?"

Vivien retracted away from Melinda, feeling her aura shift from anger to suffocating jealousy.

"No one is perfect," Moira cocked an eyebrow and Melinda dropped her gaze. There was an air of guilt in her tone. Vivien must have noticed as well, because her face drained of all emotion but fear. She stared at Moira with anticipating eyes, the house keeper watching Melinda's fingers twitch across the tea mug.

"You're right," she breathed and stood up. Her pajama pants stuck around her thighs as she stretched and slid past the stool and Moira.

"Miss Bogdon," the house keeper was on her feet and both of her eyes seemed to shoot through Melinda, "what did you do?"

Another silence froze over the kitchen, Melinda placing her hand on the wooden frame of the kitchen's door way. Vivien did all she could to keep herself standing, the energies constricting through the kitchen as if they were serpents.

"I'm going to bed, Moira. Good night."

Vivien felt as though she were going to faint from the strength of Melinda's energy. It barely faded as she ascended the stairs and walked down the hallway to her and Ethan's bedroom. Sitting herself down at Melinda's former place, Vivien pressed her hand against her forehead. Moira turned to her, wringing her hands and looking incredibly terrified.

"What was that all about?" Vivien inhaled, trying to focus on the lingering chai scent. Moira glanced from the doorway to her friend, unsure of how to answer.

"I don't know...but I have a bad feeling about her right now," the house keeper gathered the mugs and Vivien turned in the stool to focus on Moira.

"Panicking shouldn't be the first impulse. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for her-"

"Or the bitch is just crazy."

Both Moira and Vivien jumped, turning to see Hayden smirking in the doorway. Her arms were crossed, an arrogant, half smile plastered on her face. Vivien felt herself tense up. Hayden was the last person Vivien would find helpful in the given situation. Moira pressed her lips together, whirling a dish towel inside a mug.

"What do you want, Hayden?" Vivien sighed. Hayden's eyebrows raised and her eyes flicked between her two companions.

"I leave you for all this time and I don't even get a 'hello'?" Hayden purred and Vivien tried not to shift uncomfortably. "But, now that you ask, I would love some tea."

Hayden tossed her hair over her shoulder and welcomed herself at the island.

"It smelled damn good," she mused, inspecting her nails before glaring over at Moira holding the now clean mug. "Well?"

Despite wanting nothing more than to tell Hayden to leave, Moira fixed her and Vivien a mug of chai tea and crossed her arms.

"Now what do you really want, Hayden?" Vivien demanded after a few, awkward sips. Hayden gave her a sideways stare, her brown eyes wide and almost innocent looking. She pondered telling the two of them, but, the truth was, Melinda's odd behavior was alarming to her as well. Some of the energies that pulled at Hayden were disturbingly strong and they weren't coming from Emilee.

"Well, I know I want to be left alone," she started. It wasn't a lie. "Ever since that medium got here, I haven't been able to go an hour without feeling her yanking at me. As if she wants something."

Vivien cocked her eyebrow.

"What are you talking about?"

Hayden set her mug down, glancing between the two ghosts.

"You mean," she looked almost scared, "you don't feel that?"

As if on cue, Hayden felt as though someone were trying to rip off her right arm or drag her up the stairs. Keeping her balance was a challenge on its own, but fighting the pain was almost impossible. Hayden felt herself fall and Vivien caught her before she crashed to the ground. Brown eyes wide, Hayden scrambled to her feet, panting and stumbled out of the kitchen.

"It's not Emilee," Tate breathed, standing at the foot of the staircase. He watched Vivien and Moira chase after Hayden, the two of them freezing at the sight of him. Hayden's eyes were wide, out of character for her to be scared. Tate stared at her then vanished, startling Emilee when he suddenly appeared at the foot of her bed.

"The hell?! What are you doing?" Emilee snapped, yanking the covers over her chest and slapping around for her bedside lamp. Tate's back was to her, his eyes fixated on her closed door. His wordless presence scared her and Emilee flicked on the light.

"Tate?"

He didn't answer her as he listened to Hayden pound up the staircase and sprint down the hall. A cold breeze told her Tate was in Emilee's room, and she tore into the master bedroom, sending Melinda into a fit of screams.

"Tate!" Emilee gasped, lurching forward to run towards the door. "Tate, what is going on?!"

Whipping around, his glare rooted her into the wood of her floor. Emilee's eyes were wild with fear and anger behind the mass of tangled, auburn hair but the way he was looking at her paralyzed her. The sudden avalanche of energy almost knocked Emilee backwards. She couldn't tell who it was coming from or why.

_What is going on?!_

"Emilee," he said, softening his gaze. He almost felt sorry for her, looking helpless and frozen. Melinda's screams faded into the background, Emilee not noticing her father's shouts as well.

"What about Rowan? She needs me!" Emilee gasped, Tate taking a step towards her.

_Mom. I need my mom! _

"Rowan...Rowan needs me!"

Emilee felt her heart pounding, threatening to burst from her chest. Tate was directly in front of her, his eyes pouring into hers. Watching her body rock back and forth, he reached out, trying to steady her.

"Go back to sleep," he soothed, smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear. Emilee's pounding heartbeat faded with Melinda and Ethan's screams. She could feel the pulsing energy of Hayden...so full of hate...

_Tate, why do you suddenly feel so warm? _Emilee wanted to ask. His fingers felt like snow pressing against her face but there was something else. Someone else.

"Rowan," Emilee breathed, feeling her energy drain with Tate's touch. There was so much hate pushing at her, at the same time, there was a loving warmth. But it wasn't from Tate. No, he was...trying to comfort her. Block out the screaming and pleas. But his energy didn't feel like summer.

"There's no danger. Not for you."

_Why is he protecting me, all of the sudden? _

Emilee swayed, her eyes rolling back into her head before closing. She fell into Tate, who tucked her back into bed and stayed with her until Hayden was done terrorizing the adults. He could hear Moira humming to Rowan down the hall, the little girl cowering in her arms. His attention shifted back towards the unconscious Emilee and he dared to slide a stray strand of hair away from her face.

"I won't let anyone hurt you."

**The last part of the chapter wrote itself. I have no idea where I am going with this now, but, I hope you're enjoying it! I would love some feed back. Tell me how I'm doing! I'm having so much fun writing this story. **

**All I want is for Emilee to stop fainting. She is supposed to be strong, dang it. XD Then again, Tate kinda manipulates her energies and purposely makes her feel drained. It's the kind of feeling I think any medium would get around him because he's such a complex ghost. I love him though! **

**But, I hope this was enjoyable! Thank you, as always, for reading! **

**Till next time, **

**~SNR**


End file.
